


hypnotize me through

by Highsmith (quimtessence)



Category: IT (Movies - Muschietti)
Genre: 1990s, 1993, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Biting, Boys Kissing, Character Study, Developing Relationship, Dry Humping, Feelings, First Kiss, First Time, Friends to Lovers, Friendship/Love, Groping, Hair Pulling, High School, M/M, Making Out, Mutual Pining, Pining, Post-IT (2017), Rough Kissing, Unresolved Sexual Tension
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-29
Updated: 2019-12-29
Packaged: 2021-04-20 21:40:39
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,999
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22008079
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/quimtessence/pseuds/Highsmith
Summary: Bill is the first to move away.
Relationships: Bill Denbrough/Stanley Uris, Minor or Background Relationship(s)
Comments: 14
Kudos: 175





	hypnotize me through

**Author's Note:**

> Here, have 2K of Stanbrough this fine Sunday (too early) morning. Yes, the title is from A Flock of Seagulls, shut up. (Fyi, ages are 17-ish in the story, but barely anything saucy happens.)

When Bill's family moves away, Stan has a hard time of it. Not acting out, not _exactly_ that, but his days seem longer, his patience emphatically thin, his empathy middling to negligible, and for the longest time he can't figure it out. Can't figure out why he is like this, what's truly changed.

When he finally does, he locks himself in his bedroom for thirteen hours straight and his parents end up yelling at him for over an hour for worrying them sick. Stan's feeling pretty sick himself.

*

For the record, it's not because of... the guy thing. Not really.

Despite being friends with utter dickbags, Stan's always thought of the lot of them as being a sort of kind, accepting bunch of people overall. Dicks for sure, but not mean. Couldn't be a Loser and be truly and genuinely mean. They all know too well what _that_ looks like to become it.

It's more the weirdness of the feelings being directed at another one of them which gets to him. Oh, he's seen the way in which Bev looked at Bill, and the even more obvious way in which Ben looked at Bev. Starting in on how Richie and Eddie have always been with each other would lead any sane person down the path of straight-jackets and utter frustration.

Somehow, however, this feels like so much more. Maybe because Bill has always been _Bill_.

It's a moot point regardless. The Denbroughs have moved to Bangor last Stan heard, Bill's father recovering from a mild stroke, Stan's father now commenting on how swell of a deal they got on their new house while waiting for their old one to sell. Stan will recall nodding along to that information, knowing then somewhere deep in his chest that it would probably be the last of it where Bill and his family were concerned.

*

The day he finds out the Denbroughs are moving back to Derry is the day Stan both oversleeps his alarm and is almost late for the final examination of junior year and the day the old cut in his palm starts hurting so badly he has to leave school early after he gets done with his English test. Which is why he overhears his parents talking in the kitchen, both on their lunch breaks, about Mrs Denbrough wanting to redecorate the house before moving back in. The house that never sold in the year they've been gone, only been rented out a couple of times to well-off young professionals looking to stay on in Derry only temporarily.

Frozen to the spot, Stan forgets everything about his hand, the pain, the blooming line of fresh blood rising to the surface of a healed scar. He doesn't know how long he just stands there, the shadows beneath the staircase of his house hiding him well enough while his mind floats, but he snaps out of it only once the voices from the kitchen fade to nothing and he hears his dad's car starting up out in the driveway to take both his parents back to their respective offices.

From somewhere outside, he thinks he can hear birds singing, carefree.

*

Bill's stutter is gone. Not completely, but it's noticeably faded to almost nothing. Stan stares and fidgets as Bill tells them all about speech therapy and after-school exercises, Bev hanging on his every word, Mike looking on proudly, Ben quietly resigned. Richie and Eddie are too busy not staring too obviously at each other to pay more than cursory attention.

Stan thinks: _I'm turning seventeen in less than two months._ Stan tells himself: _I'll be shopping for dorm furniture this time next year._ He wishes it could all be enough.

Instead, he stares some more, stares at Bill's new haircut and the grey shirt he's wearing that Stan's never seen before, and vows to be a good friend for as long as they'll all be in Derry, together, maybe even beyond if it comes to it. They all love each other, after all, and Stan's not being a good friend here. He's being weird. He's going to weird them all out. He's going to drive Bill away in the long-run if he doesn't keep it under control.

Story time over, Bill turns to him specifically to ask, "How's Silver?" Stan's forgotten all about Bill's bike, much less promises of not letting it become a rust-bucket.

"Um," he tries, caught off-guard, mouth shifting around comically in search of an excuse, an explanation.

Richie pipes up with, "Uh oh. Who's in trouble now?" for which Eddie lightly slaps his shoulder.

Stan sighs.

*

He promises Bill Silver's probably fine, but can't bring himself to lie and say he's been taking care of it specifically. Bill insists on coming over, already planning their reunion. Stan has no arguments as to why not, and they leave together for Stan's house, the rest of the Losers loudly wishing Stan luck and laughing exaggeratedly when he flips them off behind his back while trepidatiously walking Bill to his house.

It's the beginning of summer, barely early afternoon on a weekday, therefore it's no surprise that Stan's parents are out. He leads Bill to their empty garage by way of the house and notices Bill glancing at the walls as if he's never seen them before. It's just a house, but Stan feels immediately bad for wanting to point that out when Bill's been away from them for a whole year. Everything must seem kind of new, waiting to be rediscovered. Perhaps his mother changed the wallpaper, and Stan's simply failed to notice.

Silver's hardly even dusty, which Stan privately believes has more to do with his dad being neat than any of the bike's inherent qualities. But Bill smiles widely, dimples showing, completely disarming. Stan can only swallow drily and eye the tools hanging on shelves and hooks all around them.

Then, "I really missed you."

Turning to stare at Bill happens almost without his volition. "It got better," he continues, though he's not making a whole lot of sense, "just before my folks told me we were moving back, but." Before Stan can turn the words around on him, tell him he's back now, the seven of them are together again, hardly worth mentioning the time apart, Bill adds, "I've missed you most of all, I think."

Stan swallows valiantly, though he feels anything but. "How so?" he manages, only because he can't bring himself to leave the silence between them be, too scared of all of the unspoken words between them, things unsaid anyone could read into if they wanted to, and Stan definitely doesn't want anyone to, least of all—

Bill blinks. Doesn't say anything for the longest of times, scanning Stan's face seemingly for... something. Then, finally, "N-nothing. Uh, forget it," and glances away, seemingly to examine a deflated tire leaning against the opposite wall.

That one stuttered word echoes in Stan's head incessantly while his tongue unsticks itself from the roof of his mouth. The air inside is suddenly stifling. Heady. Stan feels himself sweating through his shirt, down his back and at the armpits, disgustingly obvious. Just plain disgusting.

Among the various shadows of the garage it's as safe as any place in Derry could ever be. Stan steps closer, bridges that gap swiftly, before he changes his mind. Bill's eyes snap to his, and, turns out, the shadows in their blue are the deepest yet.

Stan finds out Bill can more quicker than Silver at its peak.

One moment Stan's muttering, "I missed you, too," not knowing how much of a coward he can afford to be while Bill's being needlessly brave as per usual, and the next he's got Bill's toes aligned with his at the tips and Bill's warmly sweet breath tickling at his cheek. He thinks Bill asks, "May I?" with eyes wide and shifting from Stan's own to Stan's lips almost desperately, or maybe it's a different set of words altogether, but the intention's the same, and Stan must nod, he's not fucking stupid, only he can't be sure because hardly any time at all seems to pass between Stan's thinking _yes, anything_ and Bill's lips already on his, and. _And_.

Bill's lips are soft. Stan has no means of comparison, never having kissed anyone ever before, hardly interested in anyone else with Bill around and utterly beyond interest after. There's no one he's ever wanted to kiss except for Bill, just him, has always been him. And now it's happening. Their mouths open at the same time, almost in sync, initially just a means to touch their lips together more thoroughly, but then the fingers on one of Bill's hands are all of a sudden grazing at his temples, another moment and they're in his curls, grip surprisingly tight after another moment still. Stan mewls without knowing the sound would come out, the way getting grasped at like that would feel, the way his body would push forward into Bill's, his own hands latching onto Bill's elbows to steady himself. He's taller than Bill now, just by an inch or so, but he feels tiny with the way Bill's holding him, kissing him, licking tentatively against Stan's own tongue and the backs of his teeth.

He's fully aware they should not be doing this here. It might be good ol' 1993, but this is fucking Derry. The part of his brain usually responsible for thinking clearly can barely come up with a feeble warning.

Somehow, they manoeuvre around the garage to lean Stan against the wall by the door leading into the house, or, more accurately, Bill prods and pushes at him, the hand in his hair pulling deliciously at the strands until his scalp tingles with it as the other grips his waist almost possessively. One of Bill's thighs ends up between his legs, and he splays them as best he can while struggling to both stand and kiss back, though their kiss mostly ends up consisting of Stan letting Bill suck on his tongue and bite at his lips until the skin starts feeling like it might crack and bleed. He doesn't mean to ride Bill's thigh through their trousers, but he can't help it, can barely keep it together and hang on, what with Bill's mouth on his, his hands busying themselves along Stan's body. The one by his waist shifts down to his thigh, half-way to his knee, before moving to the back to land right beneath the swell of his ass and grip him there, minutely lifting his leg up, encouraging him to curl it around the backs of Bill's own. It has Stan moaning embarrassingly into his mouth.

A noise at the front door startles them both, as do voices, cheery and casually normal. It occurs to Stan it must be later in the afternoon than he thought. He blushes thinking they lost track of time while making out, however accurate that might be.

He's hard, they both are, but Stan's parents are walking through the house, his dad will soon need to put the car back in the garage, so they disentangle quickly and step away from each other, scrambling to appear presentable in the few seconds they have until they're going to inevitably get discovered.

They do, in under a minute. Stan's dad finds them by Silver, admiring the barely faded paintwork. After welcoming Bill back with a hearty pat on the back, he invites him to stay over for an early dinner, though he accepts Bill's excuses of having to get back home for the first family dinner since moving back and his assurances of a rain check as soon as possible.

Stan walks him to the door in silence and says goodbye from between sore lips.

Bill's smile is dazed-looking, and he whispers only for Stan's ears, "Let me take you out tomorrow. Whatever movie you want."

And Stan must say yes, he's not fucking stupid.

**Author's Note:**

> I'm [rhubarbdreams @ tumblr](https://rhubarbdreams.tumblr.com/). Just fyi. No reason.


End file.
